


dirty paws

by fuckingspacequeen



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AU, F/M, Fluff, In case you were wondering, M/M, Pretend there's a plot, There isn't
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-07-27
Updated: 2012-07-27
Packaged: 2017-11-10 20:47:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/470526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuckingspacequeen/pseuds/fuckingspacequeen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kate Argent never managed to burn down the Hale house and Derek isn't alone in the world.</p>
<p>Scott gets bitten by a rival Alpha and he and Stiles end up as part of the Hale pack, because you can't have one without the other.</p>
<p>Schmoop and romance ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	dirty paws

**Author's Note:**

> So, yourlightningsmile deserves about all the thank yous and love in the world for being my long-suffering beta. You have no idea how much wrangling she had to do to get this into some semblance of readability. 
> 
> Idea credit goes to anthonyrogers who made a post about this on tumblr, inspiring me to attempt this writing thing. 
> 
> Dirty Paws is a glorious song by Of Monsters And Men, and you should probably listen to it. 
> 
> That is all. <3

_And that’s how the story goes._

_The story of the beast with those four dirty paws._

*

This should not be Stiles’ life. This should seriously _not_ be his life right now. And hey, maybe it builds character being chased through the woods by your best friend on a full moon, but Stiles is categorically _not okay_ with any of this.

Or, you know, he really wouldn’t be if he could think past the fact that he’s pretty certain his lungs are going to collapse in and kill him before Scott manages to get close enough to do so.

He’s inevitably about to trip over another set of branches and go sprawling to the ground, in fact, when a spine-tingling howl stops him dead in his tracks. Stiles finds himself suddenly frozen to the spot, bile rising in the back of his throat from sheer terror, because he’s pretty damn certain that noise did not come from his best friend.

And if it wasn’t Scott, that means –

Stiles can’t even finish that line of thought right now.

Rooted in place, he listens futilely for any sound of anything; his own gasping breaths grating in his ears alongside his jittering pulse. Unsurprisingly, that turns out to be all he can hear, and Stiles really isn’t sure if that’s good or bad.

On the one hand, ignorance may well be bliss, but on the other, he’s pretty certain he’d stand a better fighting chance if he could at least _hear_ Scott coming out of the foliage to tear his throat out.

Or, you know, whoever else might be roaming the woods on a full moon at this particular time of night.

Stiles _really_ doesn’t want to think about that right now.

He does, however, plan to make at least the vaguest attempt at getting back to his jeep, but that turns out to be a severely flawed plan when he realises that he has no freaking idea where he is. Turning in a slow circle, Stiles runs his hand over his head, forcing his breathing back into a semi-regular pattern as he contemplates his next move.

In the end, he’s given little choice in the matter. The sound of rustling leaves to his left making him bolt in the opposite direction, his feet taking flight before he even really has a chance to think about it.

When Stiles next goes sprawling to the ground, it surprisingly isn’t errant tree branches that trip him up, but rather the fact that he goes flying face first into … a rock solid wall. He’s pretty sure he must be concussed, as well, because he’d swear he saw boobs on his way down to meet the ground.

And then out of nowhere, someone’s smiling a fifty kilowatt smile at him and saying “Hello Stiles,” as they offer him a hand.

Stiles stays where he is for a good thirty seconds, mouth agape as he tries to process the fact that Laura Hale, _Laura freaking Hale,_ is standing in the middle of the woods in the middle of the night, offering to help him up. Weirder still, she seems to know who he is, or at least knows his name, and Stiles doesn’t even know where to begin with that.

Finally, she takes the decision out of his hands, literally, by grabbing his hand and pulling him to his feet like he weighs nothing more than a small bag of sugar. It’s hard to find that disconcerting when she’s smiling so prettily at him, though, and Stiles is pretty sure this is what it must be like being seduced by a siren, because he _really_ can’t find it in him to care.

“Are you hurt?” she asks, and Stiles gets the distinct feeling that the question was perfunctory at best, because she clearly doesn’t expect an answer.

“Are you kidding me?” he shoots back, ignoring the way his voice cracks halfway through the sentence. It definitely doesn’t have anything to do with the fact that Stiles feels like he’s stuck in the single most messed up nightmare in history.

Laura clearly isn’t listening to him, though, her back to him as she turns her face toward … the wind? And Stiles briefly considers his chances of just slipping into the trees and then making a run for it.

The look she shoots him as he thinks this implies she knows what he’s considering, so of course Stiles has to start talking, awkwardly and much too quickly, because he doesn’t know what else to do with himself.

“So you’re like, you know …? Was that you howling at the moon? I mean, that’s kind of a bit more cliché than I was expecting – Oh God, please don’t eat me,” he rattles off, very definitely not backing away from her as her eyes flash electric blue in answer.

So. Well. He guesses that explains the ethereal beauty, popularity and general athletic skill.

He’s not entirely sure that’s an answer he was looking for, though.

“You’re not going to, are you?” Stiles asks again, unable to help himself after an awkward moment’s silence. “Eat me, I mean.” Beat. “It’s not like I’d make a very good meal, anyway, all skin and bone and stringy .. uh, kind of not-muscle, I guess, but I could probably be in worse shape. I mean, I outran Scott. Kind of. Actually, I hit him on the head, but I’m still counting that as a win and … uh, what are you smiling like that for? Can I just reiterate that I _really_ wouldn’t make a great meal. I’m the opposite of delicious and nutritious –“

Does he sound desperate? He’s pretty sure he at least sounds terrified, his expression melting into one of slack-jawed half-horror in light of the smile on his potential-future-attacker’s face. Screw his life. Seriously. This is all Scott’s fault. It’s not like he’d be out in the woods being chased by _mythical creatures_ otherwise, is it?

Laura waits for him to cut himself off, and then patiently says, “No Stiles, I’m not going to eat you,” and Stiles is pretty sure that that’s the creepiest use of his name _ever._

“So, uh, what then?” he asks, swallowing thickly as he looks around for a viable escape, gaze landing back on Laura a moment later, to find her with her head tilted slightly to one side, what he hopes is amusement dancing in her eyes.

“Scott’s back at the house,” she answers easily, as though that isn’t a total non-sequitur, and Stiles finds himself gaping at her like an awkward fish.

“Back at _your_ house?” he asks, just to clarify, because he’s pretty certain that the Hale house is more like some creepy old mansion situated behind half a forest, and if that seems like the beginning of his own personal horror movie, Stiles can probably be forgiven for being reluctant to follow through with the rest of this conversation.

“Yes,” Laura says, smiling again. “Follow me.”

*

When they exit into the clearing in front of the giant ass Hale house, Stiles just feels dazed and confused. The walk was so brief that it’s like he was cheated, knowing that he was so close to a route back to safety, and yet also so far away from it.

He’s relieved to find an unharmed looking Scott standing in the middle of said clearing with a man and a woman that Stiles guesses are Laura Hale’s parents, and when Derek Hale exits the woods to their left, Stiles nearly jump out of his skin. Everyone knows who Derek is, the same way everyone knows who Laura is. Stiles isn’t entirely sure if it’s just their model good looks that resulted in their infamy at Beacon Hills High, but their level of popularity is the kind he imagines Lydia and Jackson will only ever dream about.

Stiles isn’t a stalker, but he also happens to know that Derek left to study in New York a while ago. As far as he’s aware, aside from a small house fire incident, Derek’s been gone for more or less three years. According to the police reports Stiles may or may not have accidentally glanced at, the Hales claimed that the fire was accidental, despite evidence indicating otherwise. Derek was implicated in it all, somehow, but nobody was hurt and the Hales didn’t want to pursue the matter, so the case was dropped.

Privately, Stiles thinks that Derek was implicated purely because he gives off this serial killer vibe, like he might rip your throat out at any given moment. Which, you know, it turns out he actually might. Either way, it certainly wouldn’t hurt the guy to smile a little every now and again, even if the mysterious smouldering thing is really hot. Not that Stiles thinks it’s hot. At all. Really.

(Okay, maybe a little.)

Derek glances over at Stiles like he knows what he’s thinking, and Stiles does his best not to flush with embarrassment.

This is totally all Scott’s fault.

“So, is everyone here a werewolf?” Stiles asks, unable to contain himself any longer, and practically vibrating from adrenaline or fear or some horrible mixture of the two. The words sound too loud even to his own ears, and he privately hopes that he didn’t really just watch Mrs Hale wince at his question.

“I mean, if we are,” he continues into the silence, because nobody seems to care much about answering his questions, anyway, and that happens to be something Stiles is used to. So, you know, he’s really good at filling silences up; babbling is his speciality, and take it from him, it’s totally not as easy as he makes it look.

“I hope I’m not breakfast. Or… errr …dinner? A night time snack? I’d make a terrible snack. Awful. Downright disappointing. You can ask Scott, actually, he tried to take a chunk outta my ass earlier, so he’s probably pretty much an expert now –“

It’s Scott’s turn to wince at that, and he looks guilty, and maybe even repentant, but he remains silent as he stands there looking at Stiles. Stiles swallows down what he’s hoping is irrational fear rising in the back of his throat, and just raises his eyebrows at his best friend.

Laura definitely looks amused this time when she says, “We’re not going to eat you, Stiles,” and Stiles is pretty certain he catches Derek rolling his eyes.

Personally, he thinks it’s a pretty legit concern. It’s not like Derek’s best friend had wolfed out and chased him through the woods late at night and _tried to kill him._ Derek probably doesn’t even have a best friend.

Mrs Hale steps forward, and Stiles represses the urge to step back as she says, “I’m Jessica, it’s a pleasure to meet you finally,” and that’s not in the least bit disconcerting at all, knowing that she was apparently waiting to meet him.

When she extends a hand with that same completely beguiling smile that Laura trained on him, Stiles only takes it and gingerly shakes it because he figures that polite werewolves are probably less likely to cause him bodily harm than pissed off ones. Hopefully.

She doesn’t bother to introduce the man Stiles assumes is her husband, and instead continues “Won’t you come inside?” like he has any choice in the matter, which is something he communicates glumly to Scott through a series of glances. Scott, who is obviously a complete traitor, because apparently he either can’t see or doesn’t care that this is a Very Bad Idea all around.

“Uh, yeah, sure? I mean, as long as you’re really not gonna eat me,” Stiles answers, and finds himself completely ignored and without an ally in Scott who precedes him into the building, scuttling in front of the Hales with his not-so-metaphorical tail between his legs.

Stiles doesn’t have any choice but to follow, really.

*

Honestly, Stiles doesn’t know what he was expecting to find inside, but the normal interior of the house is somehow the most disconcerting part of the night so far. The walls of the corridor they’re led down are lined with what Stiles assumes are family photos, and in any other situation, he’d probably have slowed down enough to look at them properly to satisfy his curiosity.

Instead, he finds himself ushered into an expansive kitchen, and then somehow he’s sitting on a stool at the island in the middle of the room. Stiles glances up to find Derek staring at him like he can see into his soul, and he has to repress the urge to fidget under the attention. He doesn’t know what Derek’s deal is, but he ends up trying to surreptitiously rub the end of his nose, just in case it’s got like, dirt or something smeared across it. The way Derek’s mouth quirks at one corner, so slightly that you wouldn’t see it if you weren’t looking closely, implies that Stiles wasn’t very surreptitious at all.

Breaking the weird staring contest somehow developing between himself and Derek, Stiles follows Laura’s gaze and twists around to watch the hushed conversation between Mr and Mrs Hale. Judging by the way that Laura’s looking at them, and Scott pointedly isn’t, Stiles guesses the werewolves can hear what they’re saying. After a moment, Mr Hale looks up at Stiles and then leaves the room, so silently that Stiles wouldn’t have known it had happened at all if he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes.

When he turns back around again, he notices the way that Derek is looking at his mother, and wonders at the silent conversation obviously going on between them, apparently ending when Laura places a hand on Derek’s arm. Weird.

“Soooo …” Stiles says into the oppressive silence, looking at Scott for some kind of backup and getting a blank stare instead.

“Hot chocolate?” Mrs Hale pipes up, and she’s doing her freaky not-even-remotely-freaky beautiful smile again, and Stiles finds himself shrugging helplessly when her gaze falls on him. Hot chocolate. Right. Of course. Totally.

He thinks there’s going to be more silence, then, and it wouldn’t really surprise him; none of this bunch seems very talkative at all, and Stiles wonders what family dinners must be like. He envisions the scrape of metal on china and the sounds of slow chewing, and has to repress a shudder. Werewolves are _creepy._

“Stiles,” Laura says, and it’s the low, warning growl from Derek that has Stiles snapping his attention to her, guiltily, as he realises that he’s been watching their mother a little too closely as she moves around the kitchen. He isn’t really into older women; he just finds her graceful, fluid movements absolutely fascinating. If he didn’t know any better, he’d swear her feet weren’t touching the floor.

Laura waits patiently until she has Stiles’ full attention and Stiles spares a still too-silent Scott a worried glance, before looking back at her.

“I’m sorry your friend got bitten,” she says, and she sounds so sincere, almost guilty, that Stiles starts to wonder if she was the one who bit Scott.

“The Alpha that invaded our territory was looking to make Scott a part of a new pack,” and that clears that up, but Stiles still has no idea what an Alpha is.

His expression obviously says as much because Laura continues. “’Alpha’ is the term we use for the heads of our packs. My father is the Alpha of our pack, while Derek, my mother and I are Betas. For the most part, Beacon Hills is under the protection of our family. We make sure nobody gets hurt, and in return, the hunters leave us alone.”

Stiles kind of boggles at that. Considering the general shitstorm this entire werewolf business has been so far, it makes sense that Scott is potentially going to be _hunted down_ on top of everything else.

“We’re stronger in packs,” Laura continues, and if it were anyone else, Stiles would resent the way she’s talking to him gently, like he’s a few cards short of a deck.

Stiles glances at Scott again, worrying his teeth into his lower lip at the way his best friend remains silent, dodging his gaze in order to look at Derek instead. Stiles looks over at Derek too, but finds himself quickly looking away again, because there’s no way he believes that Derek doesn’t want to eat him for breakfast. He at least looks like he’s seriously considering what Stiles would taste like.

Which, you know, would be kind of flattering coming from anyone else. Like if Lydia was sitting there looking at him like that, Stiles would probably think all his Christmases and birthdays had come at once. Instead, he finds himself trying not to initiate another staring contest, hoping that he’s projecting a general _I probably taste like sweat and deodorant which is not sexy or tasty at all_ kind of vibe.

He’s not entirely sure it works.

“So, what now?” Stiles asks, firmly looking at Laura, because she’s currently the only person returning his gaze without making him squirm uncomfortably.

Mrs Hale chooses that exact moment to place a steaming hot kitten-covered mug down in front of him, and says, “Hot chocolate.”

Despite himself, Stiles knows that he already likes her, if not for the fact that she has awesome timing, then because the drink in front of him smells like it’s been made out of angels and rainbows, and Stiles’ stomach growls like the traitor it is – it doesn’t help that he hasn’t eaten since the early afternoon, and spent the entire evening trying not to die.

There’s no point in pretending that the werewolves with their superhuman hearing somehow missed that, so he settles for ducking his head down and gingerly sipping at the drink.

“Wow, Mrs Hale,” Stiles breathes, “This is –“ he pauses, taking another long, appreciative sip of the drink, “This is _spectacular,_ not unlike an orgasm in my mouth, in fact, which is, you know …not that I’d know anything about, uh, mouth orgasms…”

When he looks up, Stiles finds amusement on the faces of Laura and Jessica Hale, while Derek still looks a little like he’s just sucked a lemon. The fact that they’re all looking at him, though? Wow, that’s disconcerting as all get out, and Stiles has never been very good at being the centre of attention – let alone the centre of the attention of two very attractive members of the opposite sex … and species.

“I mean, you _are_ Mrs Hale, right?” he continues, mouth kicking into gear before his brain can, because he’s never been any good with prolonged silences – particularly prolonged silences from bemused werewolves.

“I mean, you’re not her sister, are you? I kind of just assumed, and wow, awkward if you are, but it’s not like you couldn’t pass for her totally hot, older sis …” he trails off as Derek growls, warningly, looking like he might be about to tear Stiles’ throat out, and because Stiles has always been incapable of shutting up, he still manages to get out an “oh my God, please don’t hurt me!”

Jessica laughs, and it stands to reason that it’s as freakishly gorgeous as the rest of her, and Stiles doesn’t find that the least bit perturbing, which of course, is perturbing in and of itself.

“I am Mrs Hale, but you can call me Jessica,” she says, placing a calming hand on Derek’s shoulder, and Stiles isn’t watching too closely in fear for his life, but he’s pretty certain Derek actually stops scowling for the first time that night. Stiles really wants to know what his deal is.

“Well, then, uh, Jessica,” Stiles says, because there’s only so long he can keep his mouth occupied with the hot chocolate, and the words burning the tip of his tongue are a lot hotter than the drink itself. “Thanks for the hot chocolate, it’s delish.” Beat. “And, you know, thanks for the rescue, too. I mean, I think it was a rescue? It felt distinctly like a rescue.” Beat. “And thanks for not eating me. That’s pretty awesome too, in my book.”

Laura snorts with laughter, and it’s probably the first time in his entire life that Stiles has made a beautiful girl laugh _with_ him rather than _at_ him – or, at least, he hopes that’s what happening.

“We’ve asked Scott to join our pack,” Jessica jumps in, and she’s still smiling at Stiles like she thinks he’s adorable (or maybe just edible, who knows) and Stiles finds himself glancing at Scott again, worry once again flaring at just how quiet he’s being.

 “We’d like to help him as much as we can. Teach him what we know. It’s not an easy process, particularly for someone who didn’t willingly take the bite, but Scott has agreed that he doesn’t want to hurt anybody if he can help it,” Mrs Hale continues, and Stiles turns his attention back to her, nodding vigorously as he slurps down his hot chocolate.

There’s a brief, expectant silence, and then Stiles raises his eyebrows, and finally fills it with a drawn out, “Oooohhkaaayyy…?” because he feels like he’s missed something here.

“There are human members of our pack, too,” Laura says, and she’s still talking to him like he’s a frightened animal. “It’s not at all uncommon, in fact,” she pauses, glancing at Derek as if for confirmation or perhaps something else that Stiles can’t read, before continuing, “So we’d like to extend the offer to you, as well.”

Stiles can feel his expression melting into one of horror, which he thinks is pretty justified, really, considering the conversation at hand. “You’re not …?” he begins, probably sounding panicked, and judging by the kind way that Laura’s looking at him, he looks it, as well. “I mean, you said human, right? As in, _not a werewolf?_ You’re not planning to bite me, are you?”

“Do you want to be bitten?” Derek cuts in, and Stiles actually flinches a little, because it’s the first time he’s spoken all night, and the silky smooth drawl is far removed from the gravel that Stiles was expecting. That, and he’s pretty sure Derek might just be offering to bite him. Maybe.

“No!” he says, too quick and too loud (and not very convincing), even to his own ears. He turns his attention to Scott, again, but his best friend is still mysteriously silent, gaze trained on the table rather than on Stiles. If the pair of them gets out of this alive (or hopefully still human on Stiles’ part) they’re going to be having one serious discussion about what a Bad Friend Scott is currently being.

“No,” he finds himself reiterating, heart thumping so erratically against his ribcage that he’s pretty certain he could hear it from Texas without super werewolf hearing. His life is so messed up. “No, I don’t want to be bitten.”

Laura and her mother share an unreadable glance, and Derek nods, curt. “We won’t bite you,” he says, and it’s gruff, but honest, Stiles thinks.

“But Scott could use a friend to help him through this,” Jessica adds, as though that’s it, offer on the table, time for Stiles to make a decision.

He doesn’t have a clue what joining a pack involves, and right now it feels entirely like it won’t be dissimilar to joining some freaky cult, but Stiles is nothing if not loyal, so of course he says, “If Scott’s in, I am too.”

*

Nobody suggests Stiles should go home, and he’s thankful for that, because there’s no way he’s leaving Scott to the literal wolves.

Besides, he’s worried about his best friend, and when they finally get a moment alone together, Stiles whispers, “Dude, I’m not mad.” Maybe he shouldn’t be completely surprised when he has to back away quickly as Scott turns to look at him, _fangs_ bared.

Stiles has a mini heart attack, and he thinks Scott is going to attack him then and there on the stairs, which is seriously _not cool._ But suddenly, Derek is appears out of nowhere like a wall of muscle, and he’s pushing Scott away from Stiles with a snarl.

Honestly, Stiles isn’t really entirely sure what happens next, but one minute Scott is doing a wolfy hulk out, and the next, he’s cowering up against the wall. Granted, Stiles feels like doing that whenever Derek looks at him, too, so he probably shouldn’t be as surprised as he is.

“Guys, what the hell!?” Stiles more or less shrieks, and it’s definitely a manly question asked in a manly fashion without any sort of higher-than-normal pitch to it at all.

Scott doesn’t try to move away from the stranglehold Derek has on him, but he doesn’t look at Stiles either, and that kind of … well, it hurts.

Derek does ease up on Scott a little, and turns to give Stiles a look which, Stiles thinks, implies that this is his own fault. The words coming out of his mouth don’t exactly match up with that, though, and Stiles finds himself almost jumping to Scott’s defence as Derek practically growls, “He has less self-control than we gave him credit for.”

Stiles is guessing this is a full moon thing, although since he currently has little to no idea how much of the werewolf media he’s recently consumed is true, Derek’s explanation still feels inadequate.

It doesn’t look like he’s getting anything more than that, though, as Laura appears at the top of the stairs with an expression that, if Stiles were reading into things, could only be described as smug. He’s not sure he wants to know what, exactly, she’s looking smug about.

“Stiles, why don’t you come with me?” she says, and despite her tone of voice and the fact that Stiles has generally decided that he’s got no choice but to trust these people, he still feels incredibly uneasy at the prospect.

“But what about Sc—?” he begins.

Derek cuts him off with an ominous, “I’ll take care of him.”

Stiles rolls his eyes. “Yeah, because that’s   _really_ comforting,” he points out, watching the way Derek sends a glare in his sister’s general direction as she gives a soft snort of laughter.

“We’re here to help,” she chimes in. “But right now, Scott’s having a very hard time controlling the impulse to turn and being around you is making it even harder for him.”

Stiles wants to believe her, and glancing at Scott gives him nothing, not even the vague affirmation he was hoping for, and Stiles really needs that right now. Seriously.

“You gonna be okay, man?” he asks, startling slightly when Scott looks up at him with those eerie wolf eyes and just nods. Stiles notices the way Derek’s grip tightens almost reflexively, but doesn’t mention it.

Laura continues, “It’s not safe for you to stay with him tonight. You’re better off getting some sleep, and we can talk some more in the morning.”

For the second time that night, Stiles doesn’t really have any choice but to follow.


End file.
